The Hale Legacy
by eielsondm
Summary: The Hale Legacy is my own Spin-off idea of the MTV series Teen Wolf, but without the teen drama. Once I have the main characters established, I will begin writing story lines in Episode form. I hope to create 10 episodes per season. Thanks for reading my story, and welcome to the Hale Legacy.
1. Chapter 1: Leaving Caldwell

The Hale Legacy is my own Spin-off idea of the MTV series Teen Wolf, but without the teen drama. Once I have the main characters established, I will begin writing story lines in Episode form. I hope to create 10 episodes per season. Thanks for reading my story, and welcome to the Hale Legacy.

**Leaving Caldwell**

The fire spread quickly, covering the doors and windows so quickly they were trapped almost before they know they were in danger. The flame spread like a living thing, up the walls and across the ceiling; licking at anything that might light and fuel its vile existence. It reached for them,spitting smoke and ash, choking them even before reaching out to tear at their flesh in searing gouts. The fire was a demon, summoned by hunters to massacre the family.

Parents, siblings, aunts and uncles, cousins; they all burned. The screams of horror filled the air and reached out into the night. First they begged to be saved but after the fire began to ravage them,they begged for death. Then their raw,burned throats could only scream until all became silent.

Somewhere beyond the flames the hunters stood, laughing,taunting their enemies; reveling in the deaths of women and children. These cowards, unable to fight honorably,massacred them all and watched as they burned.

Mason woke suddenly, calling out to his father. It had been two days since he had received the call. He hadn't been there to see what had happened to his family. He hadn't seen the house burn, or he too would be dead. He had been safe on the other side of the country; but the pain and horror they felt had called out to him, echoing in his mind and soul. He didn't just feel their loss. He felt their death.

He had thought he had enough pain losing D just a few days before. She had never truly been his. It was a fantasy they shared for too short a time, but now her husband wanted to work things out. Mason couldn't stand in the way if there was any chance for them to save their family, so he walked away. They hadn't been together long, but it stung none the less. The loss of his own family was killing him, how could he get in the way of someone else's?

The second call was an even bigger shock. The family had no leader, no alpha, and so the eldest of the remaining pack had called upon Mason to take over the care of the family. They wanted him to take over the accounts and find a new safe haven for what was left of the Hale family. His great uncle Matthias had asked him to scout a property in Washington State. Now all he had to do is sell his house and tell his friends goodbye.

Tuesday morning he had talked to the Realtor and by 10 AM a for sale sign was standing in the front yard of 39 High view Rd. With no word to anyone, he started packing. Best if he went quietly. D and her husband had lots of friends in Caldwell. The guys at the firehouse will miss him, and there were a few others. God he had to get his head out of this black cloud. He wanted his last days in Caldwell to be good ones.

Wednesday morning, Mason stood in front of his house staring at the for sale sign. His tie-on white cotton pants and slippers kept him descent, but he hadn't put on a shirt. His beard had grown out over the last few days and made him look a little older. His tanned chest and arms stood out in stark contrast to his white pants. The muscles tensed just slightly,but not flexing. His hair looked tussled as if he had just rolled out of bed. The perfect 64 degree overnight temp still clung to the air. He never got cold. His internal furnace kept his skin warm to the touch, even in the coldest of winter. Many mistook it for a fever, but he'd been that way since he had turned about 14.

His coffee stood untouched in his hand. He was smiling a sad, sweet smile remembering the day he bought this house. His parents and cousin had flown out to see it. His dad just couldn't understand why he loved the east coast so much. "Not as many earthquakes for one,Dad." He had told him with a smile. His father just shook his head and patted him on the back. "Whatever makes you happy", were the only words his father could muster for him.

He stood there, remembering the good times; smiling.


	2. Chapter 2: Mason's Journal - Rage

The Hale Legacy is my own Spin-off idea of the MTV series Teen Wolf, but without the teen drama. Once I have the main characters established, I will begin writing story lines in Episode form. I hope to create 10 episodes per season. Thanks for reading my story, and welcome to the Hale Legacy.

**Introduction**

I wanted to let the rage consume me. I wanted to hunt the Argents the way they had hunted my kind for centuries. They broke our pact without provocation. No Hale had killed a human in my lifetime. They slaughtered my family and I wanted revenge.

It would have been easy to go back to Beacon Hills and terrorize the human population with wolf sightings and attacks until it drew the hunters out. I was always good at stalking my prey. I have patience, something a lot of my kind lack. The fires that burn in us and fuel our rage, burn low in me; but they burn hot. My feral nature has always been easy for me to control and some in the family thought that was a sign of weak blood. My father taught me that it was strength. He said that I could move more easily among humans and not worry about loosing control.

Even the slightest slip can cause serious harm or death to humans, and draw the attention of the hunters. Even if the sons 'o bitches didn't come, loosing control could mean exposure to the humans and that would bring the wrath of the packs down on me. We have ancient laws that we have to abide. The Packs of the Moot enforce those laws in their territories.

So before I could give in to my grief and pain, my great uncle found me and explained that I was the only one that could find a new safe haven for our family. I had to be the one to parley with the great houses and rebuild what had been lost.

He pointed out that I had been living in a city that fell into the territory protected by the brotherhood. Historically, werewolves and vampires simply don't get along. I lived in their territory and managed not to have them hunt me down for several years. I was able to hunt because I don't hunt humans. I was able to thrive because I don't lose control every time it gets tense or I get angry. I had a dangerous job and managed the stress and even injuries without killing anyone or exposing myself to them. I was the only one left that had that kind of control. I had good friends in Caldwell. I plan on going back someday, even if only to visit, and I hope that I can keep in touch with a few of them.

The biggest problem with finding a new territory for werewolves is finding a place not already controlled by an existing pack. If your pack isn't strong enough to fight for a new home, you'll find yourself searching high and low, sniffing out place after place and finding yourself in the territories of other wolves that are none too happy to see you.

I tried to contact some of the other families and work out safe passage, but that only works for regions controlled by the Moot. Independent packs and even a few mutts have carved out hunting grounds for themselves that aren't part of the treaty. The great families signed the treaty long ago and have a relative peace so long as they respect each other's borders.

Asking for safe passage would keep me from starting a war, but lets the other families know just how desperate we are. Eventually the rumour mill will have its way and there will be challengers. There will be old enemies that will come hunting; open season on the Hale's.

One family, in Bear Valley, allowed me limited access to their archives and helped me plan a few trips so long as I sent them word of who and what I find when I get there. It was a mutually beneficial agreement. I get their help and protection in their region, and in return I give them updated info on whatever I find that is outside their territory. They don't have to risk a single member of their pack.

The Bear Valley wolves were not a traditional family, but there were a few purebloods among them and they have honor. They don't agree with my family's acceptance of humans into our family. They enforce the law that prohibits any human from being allowed to know about us. We, on the other hand look for mates that can accept the truth and join our family. In this way, we have humans that will give their lives to protect their children and spouses. There are very few packs that live that way.

The Beacon Hills region was my family's territory. For generations our pack controlled the area, enforcing pack law and hunting in safety. That all changed six years ago when almost the entire family was trapped in our home and burned alive. Now the region is out of control. Other packs circle our lands like scavengers and other creatures are flocking to the area. The humans of Beacon Hills have no idea how much danger they are in. The Argent clan hunters have moved in. They are hunting everything in the area that has a hint of supernatural aspect. If we want to rebuild the family, we need a sanctuary.

I've searched half a dozen possible territories in remote parts of the country and even one in the Yukon, but it was always the same. Too many mutts, or another unknown clan had taken up residence, but hadn't declared themselves to the Moot.

For posterity's sake I'd like to say that my arrival in Ellensburg, Washington was nothing less than fated. The clouds parted and the light of understanding shown down from the heavens the moment I stepped foot in to town. The folk of Ellensburg met me with friendly smiles and open arms.

Or, maybe I should say that I arrived on the day of a solar eclipse. The sky darkened as I crossed the city limits, heralding the nocturnal nature of the town's newest citizens. The howls of the mundane wolves in the area could be heard no matter where you were in Ellensburg.

Neither of those is true, but they would make for properly dramatic stories. The truth is there wasn't much to tell, but my great uncle Harovan insisted that this time in our family was important and should be recorded by the one chosen to lead our family to Ellensburg. He thinks that someday a young pup is going to read this entry in the family archives and be inspired. Although I remember sitting on the floor of the family library, reading journals from the past; I just hope there is a pup to continue the family name, human or Werewolf.

The Hale line is a very old family originating in Romania. After a few set backs in local politics and superstition, we moved to the US and helped settle California. Our family was safe and able to manage local population for more than 120 years. After the fire, everything changed. Those of us that were left feared the flames had also claimed our future. There are no living children to carry on our family.

Even the humans in the Hale family were destroyed. I specify humans because the hunters didn't care who they burned. They consider the humans that are our kindred to be complicit in our crimes against the "natural order". Not that I've ever thought normal humans could even contemplate the real meaning of the term.

So by now you get it. I was born a Werewolf. Not the "I was a teenage Wolf-man" type of creature, but one of many different species of lycanthrope wolf breeds. My family are not turned by being bitten, although we can infect others. We are born with the wolf gene in us. Most Of our kind have relationships with humans because two of our species can't mate. We need humans to procreate, but finding a human that will willingly live in or allow their children to live in Wolf society isn't easy.

Most of us begin to change when we are teenagers. The process is painful and dangerous to both ourselves and others around us. We have to be taught to control our primitive sides. We don't turn in to mindless beasts that only care about hunting for human flesh on the full moon or when we shift, and no…silver has no effect on us.


	3. Chapter 3: Punishment

**Punishment**

His anger erupted in to the great black beast he held inside. The first swing of his clawed hand was no surprise, but was still hard enough to lift Ronin off the ground and send him several feet deeper into the room. Ronin's ears rang out with the pain and force of the blow. Shaking his head, he stood and awaited the second attack. It never came.

Taking a deep breath to calm himself; the alpha changed back into his human form, though his eyes remained a deep red. His voice carried a power that echoed in the minds of all pack members present. "You were a true soldier of the pack, and now you turn against me? Your disobedience must be punished."

Ronin tried to speak, but the alpha roared and silenced him. "I won't claim your life, you are too valuable to kill; at the moment." He snarled and spit the words like they poison in his mouth. "I will leave it to the pack. They will mete out your punishment for betraying our trust." Ronin looked into the eyes of his brothers and could tell that not many were comfortable with the idea. The alpha had decided to allow the pack the chance to determine what was right. Many had been uncomfortable with his decisions of late, and he attempted to allow them to feel that their voices were heard. Of course, there were just enough fanatics in the group to bring the sentence the alpha wanted anyway.

It was decided quickly and without a word spoken verbally. The pack shared a group consciousness that allowed them to "communicate" wordlessly. He would face a gauntlet. As Ronin passed the pack, each member would take one swipe at him with their claws. If he survived, he was forgiven. If he died, he would be eaten. Any pack member that did not participate would also be punished.

The alpha's loyal lieutenants were last in line, making sure that they get their best licks in. This was going to hurt.

His friends in the pack had made their choice. They had to protect the pack. Going against the alpha could cause a schism that would tear the pack apart. With grim acceptance, they stood in line, waiting for their friend to pass. Ronin no longer was sure whether holding back in their attacks or trying to kill him was the greater mercy. The cuts from the Alpha's attack were not healing. No wound made by an alpha would heal quickly. The others could smell his blood, but he refused to give them fear. If they were to kill him, they would have to live with his defiance.

Ronin stood as tall as he could and looked in the direction of the door, not allowing himself to make eye contact with any single member of the pack. Looking them in the eyes may be seen as pleading and then they would think him weak. Looking back at the alpha with a snarl, "I accept the judgment of the pack. It may be misguided, but it is the will of my brothers and sisters."

The Alpha smiled in dark glee. It wasn't often one was privy to such an event. He stood in barely contained excitement. With one last nod to him, Ronin turned and walked in to the arms of a dozen beasts ready you tear at his flesh.

The first strike came swiftly, but lacked conviction, leaving a mild tare on is right shoulder, but caused little true damage. The second came from a brother in his Glabro form. Still appearing as a man, but partly transformed to show his claws and teeth; the male's glowing golden eyes burned with rage for both Ronin and the alpha forcing him into this situation. His attack dug deep, tearing at his shoulder muscles all the way to his shoulder blade. Hot blood poured from the wound, and a grunt from Ronin confirmed that is was more than a glancing blow.

Ronin continued to step forward, concentrating on each step, knowing that he had to make it to the door if he were to survive; knowing if he fought back, the pack would tear him to pieces. He bared his teeth with the pain of his shoulder and took another step, right into the reach of a true supported of the Alpha. This one, a lefty, sliced a path up his chest from his stomach shedding clothes and skin alike.

The next one on his right took a swipe at his face, tearing his cheek and leaving a groove in his bone. Ronin stumbled and spit blood but remained on his feet. He opened his mouth to give voice to his pain and rage, but the shock of moving his mouth while the cheek and lips were torn was agony. The growl came out far more intense than planned.

It went on as he passed by more of his brothers and sisters. A few of them turned their heads in shame as he passed once they had done their duty. Others stared on with bloodlust, their rage called out by the violence and barely held in check. Rivulets of blood covered every appendage and plane of his body. Hot tears ran down his face as each wound burned and tried to heal just as another tore through and kept them open. No mere man could have suffered such torture and survived.

At one point, Ronin fell to his knee, lucky to have it happen in front of his best friend. The man stood there, still in his homid form, barely a hint of the wolf beneath and struggled with his decision. Then, he paused allowing Ronin to stand before taking Glabro form and striking for Ronin's back leaving a trail as long as his forearm down Ronin's back. Fresh blood poured down the small of his back, coating his ass.

Ronin forced his mind to focus on things beyond this room, the pack and even the pain. He had once been told that he should be proud of his name. The Corvin family had a long history in Eastern Europe, and although he found no trace of his mother's family or past, he knew that he was part of that line and that it must one day stretch beyond him.

Ronin had been Raised Ronin Black, his foster mother's name. She had changed it to protect him from whatever past his parents had left behind. Evelyn Black had taken him in and raised him quietly, never knowing that she had protected him in ways neither of them could understand.

At eighteen, Ronin took back his birth name with the blessing of his foster mother and joined the army.

The wound on face had already closed and was healing just in time for a fresh attack. Had Ronin not seen a hint of movement just in time and turned his head slightly, he would have lost his left eye. That may have been a wound that took much to heal. Even so, the four tears that started near the top of his head and drew down to his chin began to pour blood. Again Ronin nearly fell.

Ronin dared a quick look at this latest attacker and saw that it was the pack's Beta; a wolf that had always felt that Ronin was trying to take his place. That attack wasn't punishment, it was personal. Ronin swore to have him answer for that later.

Turning his head may have saved his eye, but it did not save him from a powerful blow to his stomach, claws like daggers forced into his gut as one of the final wolves tried to put on a show for the alpha. Ronin called out, but it was not the cry of a wolf. The strength was nearly gone from him. His cry was that of a man. His knees buckled and he fell. One hand held this mid rift in place, the other bracing his upper body.

The human cry snapped the Alpha out of his rage induced vision of blood and glory. He heard the cry of a member of his pack and realized he was about to lose a valuable soldier and friend. As the final two wolves raised their hands to strike, the Alpha called out in his most commanding voice. "Enough!"

All eyes turned from Ronin to their Alpha. The look on his face was a mixture of euphoric anger. "Do not kill your brother. He will learn nothing in death. We do not wish to lose him before he can return to the pack and serve well." Pointing to two males that were outspokenly on friendly terms with Ronin, the Alpha commanded, "Take him to his home. See that he has a clean, dry place to heal and sleep. On the next turn of the moon, he will return to us and rejoin his place among us."

A few hours later, Ronin lay in a heap on his bed. His phone chimed with several missed calls and texts. Every muscle in his body ached. He had lost a lot of blood, much of it caked on his tattered clothes and in his hair. Slowly he reached his phone and swiped his finger across the face of the smart phone and it leapt to life with light and sound.

The quick dial had been set to call Rosie, just in case he was unable to dial it himself. It rang, and rang, until her voice mail picked up. Ronin was nearly unconscious again, but managed to call out a single word. "Help…"


	4. Chapter 4: Awakenings

**Awakenings**

His eyes opened slowly, like lifting an iron portcullis with no wench or pulley to aid him. His vision came back slowly, assaulted by the brightness of the mid morning sun. The pain in Ronin's head told him he hadn't used his eyes in a while.

His hearing returned more rapidly and went from the faint sounds of the world as if heard through a great tunnel to sharp clarity and beyond. The cars on the street below coupled with the many sounds of the city gave way to smaller detail no human should be able to pick up. The slow drip in his kitchen sink crashed against the stainless steel basin, imposing its rhythm to his already pounding head. In another apartment across the alley, a baby cried out for its mother in a tone that left no doubt the child was hungry.

Ronin's own stomach growled angrily and he winced in an approximation of a smile. I know the feeling, he silently agreed with the child. Groaning, he clamped his eyes shut and focused his attention on a single point to tune his hearing onto the sound of his own heartbeat. It was a little easier since his head throbbed so bad he could see his pulse through his closed eyes. His breathing slowed as he brought it in through his nose and out through his mouth. He had learned the mental exercise shortly after his family's bloodline had taken dominance and the change started.

Ronin became more aware of his body as he focused and he could tell that nearly every injury he had sustained had healed. He must have been here for days. Reaching slowly to the squat, two drawer night stand that stood a silent vigil next to his bed, he searched for his cell phone. His phone was right where he always left it, and someone had plugged it in to the charger. His eyes snapped open. He had called Rosie. No one else would have come.

"Rosie?" His voice was horse and weak, but he thought he had managed enough sound to get her attention. There was no answer, so he tried again. Still no one stirred or made a sound.

Ronin took in a deep breath through his nose and tested the air for her scent. The scent of dried blood and sweat from his own unwashed body assaulted him, along with other far less pleasant things. There was only the faintest hint of her in the air. She had been there, but had gone some time ago. How many days had he laid there? He activated his phone and looked at the screen in disbelief. Weeks…it had been weeks.

He couldn't blame her for leaving. She had probably not expected him to survive and she didn't owe him anything. There was no reason he should expect her to stay with him that long, nor could she have called an ambulance. What would she have said? "He's dying from multiple attacks from a pack of werewolves, oh and he is one too so there is the slightest chance he'll live through it so here you go…"

The fact that he was alive at all told him too things. First, his former alpha had decided to allow him to live. That was a surprise all on its own. Ronin had disobeyed his alpha for the first time in his years of being a beta in the pack, it didn't matter that he did it to help the wolf his alpha wanted to claim as his wife. She was alone and hurting, and Ronin couldn't just watch; he wouldn't just do nothing anymore.

The Bastard could have easily had him followed and killed after Rosie came to help him. Ronin knew he was not done with the pack. Once a member you were in until the alpha casts you out or order's your death. He was cast out now, but they would be back. He had to leave if he wanted to survive now.

He moved his arms and felt the weakness of malnutrition and loss of fluids had brought him, but the wounds were gone. All accept the one given him from the alpha. That one was still burning and scabbed over. That had been the one that kept him in his coma like state. Again his stomach lurched and rumbled. Being a werewolf had allowed him to heal from his injuries, but he hadn't fed in a while. He needed meat to replenish his strength. Anything he had in the house before his punishment would be bad now, and he couldn't count on the pack anymore. The thought of hunting in his weakened state didn't give him very optimistic feelings.

He lifted his hands to his face and found the healthy start of a thick beard and the smell of his body came drifting back with the motion. My god, he had smelled homeless people that didn't reek as bad. A thought crossed his mind and he smiled faintly. Those two facts may prove useful in his hunt. Most people ignored the homeless unless they were approached or the unfortunate person was in their way. It was a lot like urban camouflage.

Ronin sat up slowly, feeling the tightness in his muscles and tendons. A normal person would have succumbed to atrophy by now, but the supernatural strength afforded him by his family's curse kept him viable. The blanket covering him fell to his waist and a wave of cold air rolled across him, sending him into a fit of shivering. Intellectually, he knew it was the hunger and inactivity that made him feel so cold.

"Hello, Ronin." The gruff voice came from nowhere and caused a panic to shoot through his body painfully. It wasn't Rosie, it was a man, and not a voice he recognized. Ronin's head snapped towards the couch on the far side of the room. Living in a studio apartment left little in the way of privacy if there was someone else in the house. The voice belonged to a dark haired man with a strange accent Ronin couldn't recognize. His face was covered in several days of scruff that didn't quite meet the standards of a beard, but ran close. His salt and pepper hair was collar length and seemed to slightly cover his ears.

"Who the hell are you?" The question was a simple on, but carried a great deal of sub context. He tried to convey by his tone and posture that although weak, he was able to fight and would protect himself. The message was received by this stranger, even if he could tell it was a bluff.

A subtle smile painted the stranger's face. "I'm not here to finish you off. I'm here to introduce myself. My name is Harovan Hale. People call my Harry. I knew your mother and father." He let the information hang in the air, allowing the weight of it to sink in. Once he realized he had Ronin's full attention he continued. It took a long time to find you, Mr. Corvin. You were raised with you mother's name. I didn't think she was able to have children when my Nephew began to get close. When my nephew was killed, she never told us she was carrying you."

"Wait, you know who my father is, and you knew my mother. And you are supposed to be, what? My great uncle? You barely look old enough to be my father's age."

Another small smile. "Good genes. I'm older than I look." If you are willing, I have things to tell you. The fact that you've lived this long with the change means that you can handle hearing it. The question is, do you want to?"

Ronin sat there, his head spinning from hunger and shock. All the answers he had wanted and all he could think about was the need to hunt. This could be a problem.


	5. Chapter 5: Mason's Journal - Stonehaven

The Hale Legacy is my own Spin-off idea of the MTV series Teen Wolf, but without the teen drama. Once I have the main characters established, I will begin writing story lines in Episode form. I hope to create 10 episodes per season. Thanks for reading my story, and welcome to the Hale Legacy. Beginning in this chapter some elements of the TV series Bitten will be used as background for the story. I do not own the rights to Teen wolf or to the Bitten series. This is intended to to be fanfiction only.

**Stonehaven**

To keep an accurate record, I guess I should begin with my trip to Stonehaven in Bear Valley. My uncle Harovan had contacted Jorge Sorrentino as a way of connection to the pack in New York. He was pack, but acted on the outskirts so that he could represent them in the Human world. He had been a liaison to many of the other packs as well as human groups many times. Jorge set up a meeting and told Harry to have me meet him there.

I didn't know what exactly to expect and wondered why I was meeting Jorge and his cousin Nick Sorrentino at a night club that was still under construction, but those were the directions I had received. I walked in and immediately found myself being greeted by a very attractive Asian American woman. Her short black dress and long dark hair were accented by her welcoming smile and dark, twinkling eyes. I smiled despite my nervousness.

She reached for my hand and looked at me with a dazzling smile, gently tossing her soft, bouncing hair over her shoulder with a simple and practiced tilt of her head. "Hello, you must be Mr. Hale. My name is Amanda, I work for Mr. Sorrentino. He asked me to show you in. Would you like a drink?"

So it was a test. I could smell his scent all over her. He was letting me know that I was in his territory now. I gently shook my head and softened my smile. "Thanks, but no. It is nice to meet you. I'm looking forward to meeting Mr. Sorrentino as well. Is he here?"

"I'm afraid he is running late. He will be here in a few moments. Please forgive me, but Nick didn't say if you were here on Club business or personal." Her voice was even and mildly curious. It would seem Nick had used the club for personal business a few times. She wasn't supposed to be personal business, but she'd become that and recently by way of her approach to asking.

"I'm afraid it's personal business. I'm here to ask a favor of him. Are you in charge of the re-,model for this club?" I asked to deflect any scrutiny on me. She smiled. She took pride in what she was trying to build. Beyond the scaffolding and plastic, the walls were undergoing some repair and the bar was being installed. It was an open place with lots of room for party goers. If it was done tastefully and not made to look like a strip club, it could be very nice.

"Yes," She said. "I'm Nick's designer and coordinator for the construction faze. In just a few months this bare and blank space will be a unique creation of art and music that should attract…" She went on, but I lost track of the conversation. I hoped she wouldn't notice that I wasn't listening, but I caught scent of several wolves that had been here and recently.

"Ah, here he is now." Her voice picked up. She was physically affected by his entrance to the club. Her heart raced and her cheeks flushed. Her scent took on the heady aroma of lust. There was no doubt they had been intimate.

Nick Sorrentino walked in full of confidence and a little frustration. He was tall, with deep brown eyes, olive skin and wavy brown hair. He had the trim, fit body of a man that took pride in his physical appearance, and did more than his share of physical training. He kept his face neutral but his stance and pace were one of a man with a lot to do. Once he reached arms length, he straitened to his full height and looked me in the eye. His hand rose to offer a hand shake. I accepted and gave him a proper squeeze, but didn't try to impress him. This was his house and his pack's territory. He wasn't alpha, but it was obvious he had been elevated into a place of stature in the pack. I was an outsider, and I needed his help.

Nick spoke first. "Mason Hale?" I nodded and he continued, "Its nice to meet you. I see you met Amanda."

Again I nodded and offered her a smile, "I did. I couldn't have asked for a better welcoming comity. She was just explaining the concept of your club and what one can expect. Sounds like a great project."

He let go of my hand and looked to Amanda. His smile gave away both pride in her work and the budding lust between them. She returned his smile and turned away, only slightly embarrassed by both men's attention. "If you don't need anything further, I need to make some calls and fun some errands." It was more a question than a statement, but Nick nodded and let her go quietly.

Turning back to me he looked me in the eye again. "So, Jeremy has agreed to your request to look over our archives. We are sorry to hear about the trouble your pack has faced. To be honest, we have quite a bit of pack business going on right now as well." He paused as if to silently communicate that my presence was a disruption.

"Don't worry," I offered him; "I'm only here to look at the territory maps of the packs and then I will leave. I don't want to be a problem for your pack. There aren't many of us left and I need to find a sanctuary for my family. After that, I'm gone. I'm hoping after just a few hours I can have an Idea where to start looking and I can be out of your hair."

Nick smiled. He had no reason to doubt me, and since I had the virtue of telling the truth, I must have convinced him. "Jeremy will insist he meet you and you will have to join us for dinner. It's a rare occasion that the entire inner circle will be home. He will want to go all out. Its not often we get visitors from other packs. I guess we need to put on a good showing of ourselves."

Nick patted me on the shoulder and I could feel his sincere and friendly nature pour out from behind the wall of necessity and perhaps grief that had made him suspicious. The gesture emboldened me a bit, and I have never been one to keep my mouth shut for long, so I asked the question that was on my mind. "Wasn't Jorge supposed to meet us here? When he set up this meeting, he said he would be."

Nick nodded. He's tied up on pack business right now. We hope he'll be able to join us at Stonehaven. He has had a lot of contact with the Hales since he became a lawyer. I'm glad he has been such a good bridge between your pack and ours. Jeremy certainly hopes that feeling of openness and friendship stays in place for a long time, even if there are some differences in the way we enforce pack law in our prospective territories."

And there it was, I knew this would come up. They are going to bring up the fact that we have allowed a select few humans into our pack. Pack law says we are supposed to kill them. The only ones we have allowed to live are the few that have married into our family and carried our young. The Bear Valley pack typically stole the child from their mothers and raised them in the pack, never seeing the mother again. Our pack was more of a family. We were selective, and if the woman couldn't handle the secret of our existence, we did what had to be done, but we didn't have much of a taste for it. That was a decision made before my birth. I was happy it was made, but I understood the other packs not trusting it. It didn't win us any friends in the greater community. Jeremy Danvers would likely hold me accountable for the future decision to be made. He'll expect me to swear to follow the old laws. I don't know that I can do that.

Unlike the majority of the Bear Valley pack, the Hales were primarily born with the wolf as part of us. We don't bear the mark of the wolf, because we weren't bitten. Jeremy Danvers and most of the Santos men were the same, but Jeremy had several that were turned in his inner circle. And, many of the previous alphas of Bear Valley had been hard men, with harsh outlooks on pack life. Some had been down right cruel, even to their own blood.

"Well, I have never been inner circle in my own pack, so I can't say much about those decisions just yet. When my family gathers to rebuild, we will have some hard choices to make."

That seemed to be enough for Nick. He patted my shoulder again and then led the way to his car. "Let's get you to Stonehaven. You have a lot of work ahead of you."

The Two story stone house known as Stonehaven had an old-world feel to it. It was set back off the road on a private drive and had just over 500 acres of forested land to call its home. The stone wall and iron gates at the entrance to the house proper added to that isolated, private sanctuary feeling.

The interior of the house was decorated with paintings, sculptures and even mounted animals that gave it the feel of an expensive hunting lodge for a noble of the 15th century. It was rustic and yet still elegant in a way that most people couldn't duplicate. It had the feeling of history, of home. I was very impressed.

Jeremy wasn't around for me to meet right a way, so I was allowed to get right to work. Their archives were located in the basement of the house and were pretty impressive for belonging to only one family. The journals of Alphas dating back to the early days of American settlers, Tomes on pack law and resolutions set by various alphas, and even books on family trees were just at their finger tips. They also kept extensive files on current mutts and non pack activities, but I was not allowed access to those.

The room held a large war-room style table in the center and in that table, a glass map of the pack's territory could be lifted from the center to be held upright so all could see. I didn't remember anything like that in my family's house and was impressed. It was no wonder that this pack had survived so long and held such power and respect in the greater community.

It didn't take long to find what I was looking for and had three target areas to check out. No established packs held the territories, but that didn't mean there weren't other concerns. My uncle would be able to help narrow it down, but I may have to put boots on the ground to tell for sure. Going alone was dangerous, but the waiting was making me itch for a little action. Plus I hadn't been able to "run" for some time. It would be good to get back out into the wild.

I was listening to the song Carnival of Light on my smart phone when the call came in. It startled me because I didn't think I would get service out this far. Jeremy Danvers was a surprising man for an Alpha and an artist.

"Hello?" I answered with a bit more surprise in my voice than I meant to show. It was my Uncle Harovan. "Yes, I'm there now, but I'm not sure how long my welcome will last. I think they have something important going on right now that they don't want me to know about. I can't blame them. I wouldn't want strangers coming into my house asking questions either."

"Atlanta?" I was a bit surprised. I had been waiting on Harry to go to Romania. He said I had a cousin there that was in a similar situation to mine and that she may want to join us here in America. It was one more reason to find a new home quickly.

Instead, he was in Atlanta, looking for another cousin that had been separated from the family and forced to join a different pack. Harry had heard that this cousin was in trouble. He may have been kicked out of the pack and wouldn't last long by himself. If he had lost the protection of his pack, he may be dangerous to us as well, so Harry was taking it slow. It was a nerve wracking process.

"I've found three potential sites. I'm going to start checking them out as soon as possible. I'll send you the details tonight. I have been asked to stay for dinner with the pack, so I can't just pick up and leave. I think they are going to press me about our kindred. Any advice on what to say?"

He didn't know either. The Hale family had always allowed human members of the family. We wouldn't risk loosing them unless they asked to be turned. Even then there was a lot to consider. We had held territory in Romania, South America and in several spot across the US and it was the same everywhere we went. I didn't think that we would change our traditions just because Jeremy Danvers didn't approve of our ways, but I wasn't going to make it a challenge for him. He could easily finish off our family and not have to worry about it.

It's been a long time since I've had to dine with a pack. My life in Caldwell had kept me away from home for a few years now. Harry reminded me not to dive in to the food right away. I had to remember the alpha eats first and tells the pack when they can start.

I shook my head. What other customs had I forgotten in my years among humans?


End file.
